


You can be more, but you're heartless, darling

by FlorenceVassy



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, I guess this is what the kids call shameless smut, I wish Pippa didn't have to be evil but alas, the fic I had to write after finishing this & having Feelings about these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28700709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlorenceVassy/pseuds/FlorenceVassy
Summary: “You didn’t have to do this,” Anne breathed, holding Lorraine’s face still, “you thoughtless fucking woman.”
Relationships: Anne Sampson/Lorraine Craddock
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	You can be more, but you're heartless, darling

"How could you?"

Lorraine looked up from her desk, smiling at the sight of the dark-haired woman, until she saw the unmistakeable frown and the tight line of her lips, and it registered with her what she had just said.

“Anne—how could I—what?” was all she managed, before the door was slammed shut and Anne was on her, her fist slamming the desk, her bright eyes fixing her with a fierce stare.

But then she did something that was even more terrifying. She laughed. Well, not quite a laugh, no one could ever accuse Anne of that: she exhaled, licked her lips, and cocked her head to the side, still fixing her with that defiant glare.

“What is it?” Lorraine said, shaking her head, eyes darting about her face.

“It’s just that,” Anne said, low, barely more than a whisper, “if I don’t believe you, after all the years I’ve known you, worked side by side with you…”

She stopped, leaned forward on the desk, closing the distance between them, fixed her with that icy stare, again. Then.

“How could a jury ever believe you?”

That was it. Lorraine was up, instantly, out of her chair, defence ready as always.

“Look, Anne, I don’t know _what_ exactly you think you know, but…”

Anne rounded the desk with alarming speed, and had the taller woman by the collar before she even knew it.

“Why the fuck did you have to do this?” she yelled, the anger in her voice and intensity in her eyes making Lorraine unable to meet her gaze. It was rare to see her so riled, so worked up, so visibly shaken.

She backed off, leaving Lorraine to straighten her collar. She nervously eyed the door, making sure there was no subordinate lurking about, burning the midnight oil, and returned her gaze to the woman before her, who was now pacing up and down, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Annie,” she tried, reaching for her arm, “I—”

Mistake.

“Don’t you call me that,” Anne snapped, although she didn’t pull away from the grip Lorraine had on her arm. She could have, it wasn’t tight. Instead, they stood like that, Anne’s eyes burning her skin with the knowledge of what she’d done, the knowledge of her betrayal.

“I can explain,” Lorraine said, placing a cautionary hand on Anne’s waist, just wanting to embrace her and hold her like they used to, before she’d got involved in any of this mess.

Anne leaned into her touch, tentatively moving her face closer to Lorraine’s until they were mere inches apart, her hand stroking at the curve of her waist. She waited, until they were so close she could feel the other woman’s breath on her lips, and whispered: “don’t explain”.

Before Lorraine could react, protest, say something that Anne couldn’t hear if she wanted to keep her job, she pressed her lips against hers. She took her face in her hands, pulling her in hard and fast, knowing this could be the last time they did this, wanting to make her realise how fucking stupid she had been, and if she were honest with herself, wanting to give her something to remember.

How had it come to this? From two girls training at Hendon together, to grown women who beat the odds and became the heads of their respective departments? Never in her life would Anne have expected Lorraine Craddock, her friend and admittedly, her more than occasional, lover, to be capable of something like this. She knew she had a professional duty, an obligation, to report her involvement. But it would come out, anyway. They would find out. She didn’t need to be the one to report it. Couldn’t be.

She didn’t have time to think about that, not now that Lorraine had slipped her hand under her shirt and was feeling her way up to gently knead at her breast through her bra. Anne moaned in response to her touch, pulling her further into the kiss, leading her across the office, until she felt her back hit the wall. Just like clockwork, Lorraine leant in to kiss at her neck, leaving Anne writhing below her, under the control of her touch. Not this time.

Anne began to work at the buttons of Lorraine’s shirt, sliding her hands up her taut waist, pulling her in closer. Lorraine extracted herself from her neck and began to unbutton Anne’s shirt, who determined that now was the perfect time to attack. As she fiddled with the last button on her shirt, Anne slid her hand down Lorraine’s trousers, pushing her knickers aside and sliding her fingers over her slick cunt.

Lorraine let out a surprised groan, making Anne smirk. She took this as her cue to unbutton the other woman’s trousers for ease of access and continued drawing circles over her clit, enjoying the soft little noises escaping her lips. Lorraine leant in to Anne’s neck again, planting kisses on the tender flesh, placing one hand on her hip and resting the other on her clavicle. Her kisses became desperate, til they were big, brash things, designed to leave a purple bruise here, a nick at her throat there. Anne’s eyes fluttered, almost collapsing into Lorraine’s touch, like old times, til she remembered why she was here and what Lorraine had done, and the rage rose through her like a wave until she was backing Lorraine onto her desk.

She yelped as she was pushed into the desk, clearly not expecting the change in scenery, but still shimmied out of her trousers at Anne’s urging. Anne knew this had to be killing her, the sight of her still clothed while Lorraine herself was topless and trouserless, backed into her own desk, so she relented and quickly shed herself of her own clothing. She knew Lorraine liked a good look at her tits. Let her look, she thought, might be the last time she ever does, and lucky for her, she was wearing that black lacy bra she liked so much.

At the sight of her breasts, just like she knew she would, Lorraine licked at her lips and reached a hand up to squeeze at them. Anne took this as her opportunity to slide a finger inside her. Lorraine gasped in surprise, before moaning into her touch, and Anne slipped in another finger, grabbing her arse with her free hand.

“Fucking hell, Annie,” Lorraine said through gritted teeth, her breathing heavy as Anne began to fuck her harder.

“Why,” Anne breathed, leaning in to nip at Lorraine’s neck, “did—you—have—to—do—this,” she said through rough kisses, slamming her fingers into her harder still.

“I don’t know,” Lorraine sighed, tilting her head back, “I don’t—”

Anne took Lorraine’s face in her hand, suddenly, forcing her to meet her gaze as she pumped into her. “You didn’t have to do this,” Anne breathed, holding Lorraine’s face still, “you thoughtless fucking woman.”

Lorraine attempted to tear her eyes from Anne’s piercing gaze, but Anne held her in place. She needed to see her, needed to make her realise all that she had thrown away, needed to make contact with the girl she had met at Hendon all those years ago, if she was still in there. Some part of her wanted to give the woman she had spent so much of her life with something to hold onto, to make this last time something to remember.

No matter what, though, Anne was not going to get talked into going home with her. Not even if she did that thing with her mouth that she liked so much. Not tonight. She would be betraying herself. She comes, then Anne leaves. She’d made that deal with her conscience the moment she walked in here.

Anne worked at Lorraine harder still, grabbing a fist of her hair and pulling her in for a harsh kiss, forcing her tongue in in a desperate attempt for some sort of control of this situation that had been tearing her apart since she’d been tipped off just a couple of hours before.

“Annie,” Lorraine choked out, placing a hand on the shorter woman’s face, desperate to see those bright eyes looking into hers. Anne obliged, returning her gaze as Lorraine began to clench around her fingers, crying out, Anne working her through the waves of her orgasm, all the time muttering “I’ve got you, Lo, I’ve got you.” She cursed herself for calling her by her nickname, and for the little reassurances she promised herself she wouldn’t say. Not after what she had done.

Once Lorraine had regained her composure, Anne withdrew her fingers, picking her discarded shirt up off the floor. As she got up and began to pull it on, Lorraine took her by the hand, looking down at her with pleading eyes. Two weeks ago, a few days ago, fuck, even a couple of _hours_ ago, and Anne would’ve been back at hers and in her bed with just one look. But she couldn’t, not now.

“Don’t, Lo,” she said, shaking her head. So much for not using the nickname, then.

“Please, Annie,” Lorraine said, tightening her grip on her wrist. “Don’t do this to me.”

Anne looked at her, all sharp angles and dangerous smile. “You really fucked up, you know that?” she said, and she wondered when she had began to tear up, feeling a tear roll down her cheek, soft as anything.

Lorraine moved in, wiping away the tear, taking her face in her hands. “It doesn’t have to be like this…they may not—”

“What, they may not find out?” Anne scoffed, pulling away from Lorraine’s touch. “Fucking hell, Lo, don’t be delusional!”

She pulled on the blazer she had chucked to the floor earlier and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m not…gonna dob you in, I don’t… _know_ anything, I was never here. But if you think SO15 won’t connect the dots, I don’t…”

She turned, for one final look at her friend and colleague of thirty-odd years, whose voice she sometimes heard in the dark, whose face she knew would stalk her dreams, who she had secretly supposed she would end up with at some point down the road, now that their divorces had both come through.

Anne pulled her in for a kiss, lingering and long. She didn’t want to forget the way her face felt slotted into her hands, how soft her inner thighs were against her lips, how the ridges of her spine felt against her fingers at four in the morning.

Eventually, she pulled away, intensely studying her face, taking in her beauty, not wanting to forget its lines and the way her face cracked into a smile and the striking depth of her cheekbones.

“You…fucked up,” she sighed for what must have been the fifth time that night, stepping back from Lorraine.

“I know,” was all she could say, her hands frozen awkwardly in the air, slow dancing with a ghost. Anne turned and walked away, willing herself not to look back else she’d fucking cry. She pushed down on the handle, puling the door towards her.

“I love you, Annie,” Lorraine said, voice wavering, “part of me always has.”

She didn’t look back, just walked on, eyes dry and mouth still.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this after finishing Bodyguard today. I just love the idea of these two together so much? They're both so Powerful and Sapphic and I am a sucker for any character played by Pippa Haywood even if they are evil... I really enjoyed writing this like maybe I should write more for these two? anyway. enjoy!! <3


End file.
